Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Death Wish?

Or just not very bright? Oh, who knows. But after non-fatally slicing myself up, I suppose I figured I was invincible or something.

Anyway, I forgot to mention that this past Sunday as we were traveling down the road, one of the kids asked how long Mommy and I had been married. "Thirteen years in August, sugar." There were assorted "ooh!" and "wow!" responses from the back seats, and Reba turned to me, and with a wonderfully loving and caring look in her eye, said quietly with no small amount of admiration, "And you made it through that 'seven-year-itch' with no problems at all."

Without a moment's hesitation, I grinned and replied, "How do you know!? BWHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!" I reached over and playfully pinched at her thigh, "Reba, I've been saving that one up for six years!" Oh, she tried to pout and act hurt, but she knew she had been zinged by one of the best. "You better watch it, big fellow--I remember where that boning knife is!"

"Yes, ma'am." ::snicker::

Of course, the kids were going nuts in the back trying to figure out what had just transpired--Mom saying I was being mean to her, Dad saying he was just messing with her--but before any of you get too mad at me, her favorite thing to do is when I give her a hug and a kiss and tell her I love her more than anything in the world, is to look up at me and deadpan, "Yeah, I know."

ALSO, she took a day off from work yesterday and decided to take all the books out of Jonathan's room and move all the furniture around. Except she didn't quite get finished. Because, you know, furniture's HEAVY. So after soccer practice, Daddy got to move the bed and the chest and the desk and 48 kabillion books around.

And so it goes.

In any event, she WAS right, you know--almost thirteen years, and I have yet to meet anyone remotely as interesting.

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